(5) My first day in Albania

17 October 2012, Montenegro and Albania

After Montenegro, three options unfolded before my way to Sarajevo and Belgrade: going directly to Bosnia, staying in Montenegro or find another destination.

Goodbye Montenegro!

I started being intrigued by Albania in Kotor where three girls traveling in a van in the Balkans referred to it as "The India of Europe", probably as they perceived a strong spirituality in it. In the same direction, an American traveler in Kotor amazed me with the picturesque images of the Koman river in Albania. On the other hand, other people encountered on my way referred to Albania as a wretched and dangerous third-world-country. Not to mention all the ideas and prejudices about Albanians in which the Italian culture is soaked.

Okay, I thought, let's see with my eyes what it is about, so that I can form my own first-hand opinion.

On Wednesday 17 October I left Podgorica - where I had a Couchsurfing host - and headed off to Albania. After one week of rain, sun was shining again and it filled me with positive energy.

With two rides I arrived just before the border, which I crossed alone by walking. After the state line, I went along a gravel road surrounded by building sites and heaps of rubble within a desolated landscape as background. Almost everyone I came across was bewildered by the sight of me passing the frontier by foot and said something to me. An ugly man in particular took my hand, strongly squeezed and kept my fingers while screaming something I could not grasp. Finally, out of his repulsive howl I understood something like "one euro". I pulled back my fingers and went further, agitated by the first encounter in the country.

Map of Albania just after the border

I kept walking for about half an hour when a truck - one of the first vehicles I saw - stopped and offered me a ride to a town on the way to Shkoder. Sitting on the planks in the back of the truck with two Albanian men I observed the reality around me and realised that indeed it was different. Somehow it felt good. At that point I could not figure how and why, but I was sure there was something special.

Once in Shkoder I needed to know how to reach a local restaurant, where I was supposed to meet an American working in town. I asked a kid of about seventeen years old about it and he offered to escort me there, even though it was not on his way. During the walk, I was dazed by his candor. In particular, his eyes and smile struck me. His eyes were those of a genuine soul. Those of a child who had already met the sorrow of life yet still kept innocence within. This mix - sorrow and innocence - has not yet led to anger, as it normally occurs at a later stage. His smile was missing a tooth at its side but was glowing and I felt moved by his spontaneity.

After the meeting with the American, I walked around Shkoder's alleyways to find accommodation. I was approached by a man who spoke a perfect Italian and offered me to sleep at his place with his family. I was not sure if I could trust him. Common sense told me to stay away while the situation led me to surrender to his proposal. 

Giorgio - as he wants Italians to call him - and his family were lovely. I enjoyed listening to the story of his life: looking for fortune with no money in Europe and ending up married and part of the local church's choir in Shkoder.

After spending the night with Giorgio and his kin talking about family, religion, spirituality and answering all possible questions about my life, I found my self lying in bed staring at the ceiling and repeating his words as a mantra in my mind: "We should not be ashamed of telling the truth".

Astonished by the quality of experiences done in one day, I could not wait for the next day to come.

On the truck with Albanian men

The main Mosque of Shkoder

(2) Rainbow on Vir Island

29 September - 2 October 2012, Croatia

On Monday 24 September I separated with Kara in Rijeka and continued my travel alone southward to Zadar, the ex Italian city. We said goodbye believing that we would meet again in one month or so but after few days she told me that she was coming to an island near Zadar for a Rainbow gathering in the forest.

I did not know much about it and I was not sure about what to do: proceeding my travel southward as planned or spend a couple of days with her at this gathering. I had this sour and excited feeling mixed with fear when a very new kind of experience presents. Eventually, I decided to take the opportunity to check out what those hippies were doing there.

From Zadar I walked for about one hour to the outskirts, to reach the road leading to Vir island - which is connected to the mainland through a bridge. I got two rides, one of them on the back of a truck. They left me before the town of Kir from where I had to walk for another hour to get to the meeting point with Kara, who was already in the island from the night before.

When we met I joked with her about the gathering. I asked her whether I would be the only person with short hair and whether strange sexual games were involved. Delighted of being together again we arrived into the forest of the gathering. She informed me that people interact with each other as if they were old friends - even if they had just met. Practically, it means to hug everyone and call them brother and sister. Once there I settled into Kara's tent and started my introductory tour of the gathering' 'facilities'. There was a big tepee with a fire inside as the main gathering point, a 'shit pit' for its obvious use, a rudimentary kitchen and a number of tents and other kinds of huts for sleeping. 

A Bosnian and an Italian brother briefly explained to me about the few rules and philosophy behind the rainbow. It is a gathering of people who want to spend their time in the nature and away from mainstream society  - referred as Babylon - and embrace ideas of freedom, peace, love and harmony. Main activities involve meditation, arts, various learning workshops and music. People attending the gathering usually criticise at a different extent the consumerism and materialism of Babylon.

The common food is strictly vegetarian, the consumption of alcohol as well as of drugs is highly discouraged - even though natural soft drugs such as marijuana or hashish are tolerated. However, I have to say that the amount of this drug used in four days by approximately thirty people was less than the quantity I saw consumed in one night out in Turin, Muenster or Brussels by far less people.

The gathering is free: it works through donations. There is a magic hat that circulates after each meal where people can give what they can afford; if they do not have money they can leave their love through a figurative kiss. This procedure is made jovial by a song where people also stand up and dance spontaneously. 

Spontaneity and freedom are the aspects I felt mostly at the gathering where formalities matter little. In fact, I felt that in this kind of setting it is easier to be myself. For example I could sit together with other people playing guitar or just talking and I felt free to leave whenever I deemed necessary without need for particular explanation.

Relation with nature is of great importance: garbage production is kept at minimum level and the environment is cleaned up at the end of each event.

The organising principle is the one of anarchy and unanimity. There is no boss or representative of any sort. Consensus is attained by talking in circles where a small object circulates and gives the speech right only to the person holding it.

Nevertheless, as in all human settings, there were people more involved and influential in the decision making process and others more marginal, as newbies like me.

Two things of this gathering were particularly beneficial for me. Music and healing circles.

Music is everywhere. No electrical music device is used: only guitars, bongo drums, ukuleles, didgeridoos and you name it. The flow of spontaneity is reflected in music. Somebody can for instance start playing a guitar and sing and you can join with other instruments, singing, clapping hands or any kind of rhythmic sound.

The healing circles I attended were mainly organised by a German brother. He is a student of psychology who tries to use art, music and meditation to reach the heart of people. In these spontaneous arrangements participants sit in circle and speak in turn with a twig giving the right to speak only to the person holding it. You can say whatever you wish but it is better to focus on what and how you feel at the moment. Mostly important, you take all the time you need to talk.

The first circle I took part occurred shortly after my arrival. Already there I realised that this experience was powerful. The energy increased as people slowly took down their barriers and came untied of their fears. This was possible as fellows expressed their feelings, sensations and thoughts in a setting inspired by trust and mutual respect.

I tried not to overburden the round with my personal story but to remain positive and focus on the flow of changing impressions. The days before the gathering I had traveled alone and passed through increased uncertainties. A lot of energy lied unexpressed and silent within myself. Round after round I was getting closer to it. This energy - I realised afterwards - was made of the tears I repressed and of the truth I was not ready to accept. This energy finally found its way out and expressed itself in silent tears that were nonetheless visible to the others.

After that moment, I felt very close to these people who I barely knew. A closeness that I had felt in few occasions before and that I deeply craved. A closeness that allows boundaries to fall, together with the impression of individuality.

With these circles I truly opened up to others and I felt to be safe as others were doing the same. Eventually, I realised something that I already knew. Beyond the masks we all wear, we are similar in our feelings, fears, ambitions and desires. We are much more similar than we usually think.

Another aspect I reflected upon was my relation with time. In this kind of context, likewise other experiences characterised by the absence of a strict schedule, my relation with time was sane. You take all the time you need to do what you want to do.

In the last years at university and work my mindset was to always be productive and have a schedule for each moment of my day. I felt guilty and ashamed when I did not. By losing track of time it is easier to focus more on the present experience and less on what comes after and on the time left. Moreover, without schedules pure creativity and inspiration can thrive.

At the end of the gathering I felt that this experience was in perfect line with the spirit of my journey and that it offered several things to learn. Hence, I left by knowing that I will repeat it at some point in the future.

Eventually, the gathering was moved to another location in the north of Croatia.

Kara joined it while I decided to go on with my journey southward, heading to south of Croatia.

(1) Working on an Ecovillage in Istria

13 September - 24 September 2012, Croatia

This post is about the first 'big' experience of the travel.

The first week I passed chilling out in Trieste and traveling through the narrow Slovenian coast, where I spent three nights in the ex Italian towns of Koper, Izola and Piran.

One week after my departure from Turin I entered Croatia, where I worked in an ecovillage in Istria for about a week.

On 13 September I left Piran by hitchhiking and by taking a local bus to the border. From there I entered Croatia by walking. It took about two hours to cross the frontier and reach the first town - Buje - from which I got a ride and a bus to reach my destination in Bale, near Rovinj. There I met Kara, my girlfriend, with whom I spent one week at the ecovillage.

Volunteering in ecovillages is an experience that an increasing number of youth does. Through websites such as Wwoof, Workaway or Helpx you can find ecofarms - but also other kinds of organisations such as hostels or bed&breakfast - by which you can work in exchange of food and accommodation. 

Ecovillage in Istria

The place where I worked is an ecovillage with no community living there - as typically happens - but it is owned by a man of about 55 years old who traveled around the world and volunteered himself in farms in other places. Eventually he settled down and opened this center at his home town. This settlement is eco as it tries to reduce at maximum its environmental impact. Solar panels produce electricity, rain water is collected and organic waste is transformed into compost. Toilets consists of a wood hut with a hole in the middle and sawdust to shovel in the hole after each usage.

The center does not merely involve agriculture-related activities but also others such as art, meditation, dance and various related to nature.

Concerning my experience, we helped in the morning for about four hours and the afternoon was free and we could go to the beach. During my week there I built a bookshelf with Kara, helped the cleaning of the center and completed various maintenance tasks.

It was a good opportunity to spend some time into the nature and for a different kind of experience.

Handmade book shelf

However, I was not enthusiastic and decided to stay only one week for two main reasons.

Firstly, contrary to other ecovillages, no food was provided. Just a kitchen and a hut to sleep - that we actually did not use. We preferred to stay in our own tent, that was cleaner and fleas-free, of which the hut was full.

Secondly, I did not have a great sympathy for the owner of the center. Apparently he is rather friendly and positive. But he constantly gives life lessons and has this superficial attitude to tell that everything is wonderful in the world, that you need to be happy, smile and love always.

Moreover, after talking with other people in the area, we eventually found out that he is well known for manipulating women in order to massage and sexually abuse them. As Kara and other women rightly noticed, he hides himself behind spirituality in order to gain their trust and get sexual proximity.

Feeling uneasy with this situation, after one week we left and spent a couple of nights camping into the wild, close to the seaside.

In those nights I enjoyed letting my self being cradled by nature. I realised that the sound of waves shattering on cliffs and the chanting of crickets in the night is particularly beneficial for my sleep.

I realised that spending nights on the rocks with nothing to do, with stars glittering, the full moon glowing and the sea in front, flattered me with a different angle over life. In this setting my daily worries can be put in perspective and my individuality feels like dissolving into its surrounding. I especially appreciated these nights as I grew up in a big city where the only noises in the night were engines roaring and the urban pollution concealed the night sky.

Eventually we departed and on Saturday 22 September we arrived in the center of Rijeka. The impact with this unpleasant city was strong. The city's dazing lights, the noises and frenzy activity of Saturday afternoon made me feel immediately alienated.

We stayed two nights in a hostel and on Monday 24 September I left Rijeka and continued my travel alone southward alongside the coast.

Shantaram

Mostar, 25 October 2012

When I left home I was reading the book Shantaram, which - despite its weight - I took with me during the travel. The book is about the Australian author's ups and downs of his experience in India.

In short, Gregory David Roberts was a scholar at an Australian university when personal problems led him to become a heroin addict and a robber. Consequently, he is caught by police and condemned to a ten-year jail sentence. He breaks out of prison, flees to India where he enters into the Indian culture and into a flow of extreme experiences. He lives in a slum in Bombay where he sets up a small clinic, joins the Bombay mafia and eventually fights with the mujaheddin against the Soviets. 

Throughout the story emerges a deep human experience told with an accurate and highly descriptive narrative style. The author is outstanding in the description of the different - and at times - contrasting facets of his emotions. He provides his deep understanding of truth, freedom, meaning and humanity.

The book is basically about love: fatherly love, fraternal love, passionate love, love for a friend and for a country. Above all, it is about love for life. This is a book to feel. Through the unfolding events I could feel a lot of insights that made me reflect. Sometimes I felt like reaching a deeper level of understanding by following his words and entering into his heart.

Nevertheless, there are a couple of remarks to be said. Firstly and obviously the book is too long: 936 pages densely written that took me five months to read. Sometimes I had the feeling that he reports episodes that could easily be omitted as not in line with the flow of main events.

My main critic is however on the nature of the book. The work is neither a true story, nor a novel. According to him, main events are true but some details are invented without specifying much about what is true and what is fictional. In fact, this opacity bewildered me. 

A good book needs trust between the writer and the readers. Trust - as in human relations - needs clarity. Either you write a novel or a true story and you are clear about it. In fact, this is vaguely stated but not clear enough and the main information on this matter I had to find on the Internet.

Notwithstanding these remarks, his first-rate narrative style makes it a must for wannabe-writers and I believe that Shantaram is one of the best and most insightful book that I have ever read.

The following is one of the passage I enjoyed mostly:

"I think I'd expected to feel ... nourished, perhaps, and vindicated, by forcing her to tell me what she'd done and why she'd done it. I think I'd hoped to be released by it, and solaced, just by hearing her tell me. But it wasn't like that. I felt empty: the kind of emptiness that's sad but not distressed, pitying but not broken-hearted, and damaged, somehow, but clearer and cleaner for it. 

And then I knew what it was, that emptiness: there is a name for it, a word we use often, without realising the universe of peace that's enfolded in it. The word is free."